


“have fun.”

by clickingkeyboards



Series: one hundred ways to say 'i love you' [52]
Category: Murder Most Unladylike Series - Robin Stevens
Genre: Announcements, F/M, Fluff, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22036639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clickingkeyboards/pseuds/clickingkeyboards
Summary: Daisy is sufficiently surprised by the news that Hazel delivers to her, despite her self-proclaimed ability to detect everything.Canon EraWritten for the fifty-second prompt in the '100 ways to say "I love you"' prompt list by p0ck3tf0x on Tumblr.
Relationships: Alexander Arcady/Hazel Wong
Series: one hundred ways to say 'i love you' [52]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533164
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	“have fun.”

When the phone rings, I don’t pay it any mind. Every phone call we have received over the past two weeks has been Alexander, ringing up to let us know of letters, telegrams, and phone calls from the Glasgow officials closing The Case of the Copper Convention. As Alexander has a permanent residence (while George bounces from Harold and Bertie’s flat, to ours, to his parents’ house, to the Arcady house), all of the news about cases they’ve been involved in goes to him.

I glance at the clock at it’s three in the afternoon. George and I have wiled the day away with research, evident by the stack of books and files on our central table, and several of them tacked up on our ‘murder board’ as Alexander and Hazel like to call it. The spool of red wool has unwound on the armchair I threw it at after we pinned it up on the board and the curtains are still drawn.

“He- _llo_ , George Mukherjee of the Arcady and Mukherjee Detective Agency speaking, how may I be of assistance?”

“Your introduction is so very long, George!” says a voice I know well.

“Hazel! Hello!” I yell across the room from my desk.

“Daisy!” I hear her shout, and George draws the phone away from his face. “Anyway, you’ll both want to hear this: considering that we’ve just come into heaps of money after the dent that the house put in our savings, we wanted to go out for dinner with all of our friends in a nice place.”

“You’re too kind, Hazel dear, George replies while brushing a hand through his hair. “When is this dinner? And who’s coming?”

After a pause, she says, “Only you two. Tonight, if you can make it. Right, love?”

He presumably agreed, as she repeated, “Yes, tonight.”

“What place and what time?” George asks, twirling his pen around and around his fingers in the way that has always astonished Alexander.

“The Ritz, at half past six.” After a pause, Hazel adds, “George, Alexander wants to know if that is enough time for you to do your hair.”

“You _prick_!” George cried with an enormous joking grin on his face. “It will be plenty of time, you ass.”

I turn back to my desk with a roll of my eyes.

* * *

At six, George and I find ourselves tearing up to room in search of pocket squares and earrings, lipsticks and Brilliantine hair product. “I found your pocket square!” I yell, snatching up the swatch of fabric and holding it above my head. “View-halloo!”

“I’ve got your teardrop earrings!” He rushes into the spare room and reaches up to put them in my ears for me, while I tuck his pocket square into his jacket. “Ready to leave?”

“Indeed.” He leans down to kiss my knuckles. “Let us go.”

* * *

When we reach the Ritz, George strides up to man standing at the lectern. “Reservations under Arcady?”

“Mister Mukherjee and Miss Wells?” he asks, looking up to us and tapping his pen against the paper. I notice with a heavy heart that he regards George with a wary eye.

“That would be us, thank you,” he replies in a tone so frosty that it combats the man’s nasty stare, offering out his arm for me to place my hand on.

The table is decked out to the nines with beautiful champagne flutes and gilded cutlery, and our friends sit on the opposite side, framed by the beautiful artwork behind them.

“Daisy!” Hazel cries in a voice far too loud for the Ritz, flying from her seat and crushing her body against mine in a fierce hug.

“I saw you a day ago, you chump,” I tell her with a grin as my chin digs into the top of her head. “You can’t have missed me that much.”

Hazel only squeezes me tighter. “I’ll _always_ miss you, Daisy.”

When she sits back down, Alexander wraps an arm around her waist and I feel a stab of protectiveness surface from when I was younger. How dare he have _my_ Hazel? Touch her so casually as if he owns her? Be so gentle and sweet and delicate with her?

George is giving Hazel a far fonder look. “Are you alright, Hazel?” he asks. “You look… closed.”

“I’m alright.” She smiles and leans into Alexander with a sigh. “I’m simply rather tired.”

George takes a seat opposite Alexander, reaching across the table with his elbow against the tabletop. Alexander mirrors his gesture and raises his hand, locking their fingers in a tight clasp over the table. The two of them have always been unusually close, far closer than most male best friends. It’s touching to see them and how close they are. “Alright, Alex?”

“Never better, George.”

After two hours of drinking (rather deeply in George’s case) and eating the finest foods, Hazel and Alexander start glancing here and there, holding each other’s hands.

“Alright, spit it out,” George says with a slight drag of alcohol to his tone. He’s drunk his fill of wine; George is on the verge of being drunk but for now is charmingly tipsy. “Something is bothering you.”

There’s a pause (during which I begin to take a deep sip of wine) and then Hazel says, “We’re expecting.”

_That means a child._

_A baby._

_Another… another human being in my life to care about._

I splutter on my mouthful of red wine and spew it out of my mouth, spattering it down my beautiful white blouse. George, meanwhile, sets his glass down on the table with such force that I hear a sharp crack of the stem of the beautiful glass snapping in two.

I am rather embarrassed to think that I say this, but I say, “ _You’re_ expecting? Like… both of you, at once?”

George snorts with laughter, leaning his head on one hand. “Daisy, you absolute fucking _moron_.”

Alexander is leaning against Hazel and wheezing with laughter, while she cackles as loud as anything. “ _Daisy_!” she says.

I scowl, looking down at my stained blouse and swirling the remaining while in my glass. “Shut up,” I mutter with a grin on my face. “So, Watson... have fun with being pregnant, I guess?"

She cackles even harder. "You, Daisy Wells, are a marvel."


End file.
